


Machine

by odetoaglassofsherry



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: #space wifi, Attempt at Humor, Getting Together, I'm Sorry, M/M, They'll probably have sex?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3135353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odetoaglassofsherry/pseuds/odetoaglassofsherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It shouldn’t surprise anyone that Mr Spock of the U.S.S. Enterprise has bad days too. </p><p>EDIT: Now even with an actual ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Err is Human?

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo, thanks for reading! ♥
> 
> Any criticism welcome. My attention to detail is appalling so I've probably made lots of ridiculous mistakes concerning the canon and so forth, let me know if you spot them!
> 
> EDIT: We made it! :) Thank you for the kudos and the helpful comments, v much appreciated. I will be writing an epilogue where they actually sleep with each other, but I know many people picture Spock as more or less asexual, for you chapter 4 is a good ending.

It is universally accepted that everybody has bad days. One of the most lucrative trade agreements ever drafted in the New Orion Confederation came to be because the chief negotiator of the outer planets had such a violent headache that he accidentally snapped a table in half, making the other party so afraid of him that he agreed to all of his demands without further discussions. A klingon general once accidentally fired a photon torpedo at a robot scout after a row with her wife. Vulcan legend would have it that even the great Surak one made quite headed remarks concerning the food of a friend — after having been nearly killed by a deranged wild animal.

All this considered, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that Mr Spock of the U.S.S. Enterprise has bad days too.

Many humans had called him a machine over the years. Indeed, Doctor McCoy did so almost once a week (0.97 times in 168h). It wasn’t dreadfully illogical; Humanity, wont to express its’ sentiments loudly and excessively, found it difficult to comprehend his own emotional reticence. Natural, if not rational, then, for humans to assume he was entirely devoid of emotions. This lack of understanding stretched both ways. Vulcans had been know to make similar, albeit more scientific assumptions about humans.

Nevertheless the assumption troubled Spock. It wasn’t correct, and what’s worse; it wasn’t logical. While it is true that vulcans and humans do not share the same views on Emotion, that vulcans do not experience it in the same way or to the same irrational extent as humans do, this passivity does not equal incapacity. Even though Spock rarely felt (and indeed never expressed!) any emotion, it did not mean that he was incapable of doing so. This assumption, based on so little empirical data, was unscientific and it always annoyed Spock. But because he had better things to do with his time than trying to correct human reasoning, (like cataloging new, foul-smelling funghi,) he kept quiet at these times. This was one reason why he appreciated the company of Captain Kirk; he usually understood.

  
Everyone has bad days, and one evening shift Spocks patience had finally worn thin.

  
It had been a long shift. External damage, left from a previous encounter with some rouge romulans, had caused several ship malfunctions, and the crew had been on constant yellow alert for the past four hours while Engineering repaired the Hull as fast as was humanly possible. The temperature regulators on the bridge were running on minimum efficiency. The main power was focused on extending the shields while Mr Scott and his hard-working team repaired the Hull of the Enterprise. It was bitterly cold, 270,37K to two decimal points. Sulu’s teeth had been chattering for the past forty minutes. The Captain and Mr Chekov were both sporting gloriously rosy cheeks. Lt. Uhura had brought out her spare uniform trousers from who-knows-where, and now sat rubbing her hands in-between transmissions.

  
Mr Spock stretched his fingers, stale and insensitive because of the cold. He noted with displeasure that his reaction time seemed to have worsened by 9,37 ms. He frowned slightly and continued his calculations. If the secondary crystals’s power input could be redirected to go straight into the main transport systems, bypassing the current proxies, that might help stabilise the shields considerably. He started up the calculations necessary, formulating equations almost as fast as the ships computer could implement them. He heard the captain call McCoy to the bridge as turned to ask Uhura to patch him over to Scotty. While they talked he curled and uncurled his fingers, trying to get his circulation back to full efficiency. The cold made his fingers insensitive and sluggish.

  
The doors opened and C.M.O Dr McCoy walked briskly on to the bridge, face like a grumpy puppy. He strode over to the captain, and as Spock glanced over his shoulder he saw him and the Doctor conversing in whispers, hurriedly. He turned back to the screen as Scotty started rerouting according to his calculations. The shields were stabilising slowly, and as he watched the progress very intently Dr McCoy came up behind him without his noticing.

  
’Alright Spock, leave the power to Scotty for a bit.’

  
Spock glanced up at him, quickly. McCoy stod towering over him, brandishing a hypo almost threateningly.

  
’I’ll need to inject you with this, down in sickbay, it’ll take some time to reach full effect.’

In normal situations Spock would have resignated himself to the procedure, if nothing else to preserve the peace on board. But today he was cold, he was in the middle of a delicate procedure with engineering, and he was not in the mood to pander to human emotions. Almost irrationally, he said;

  
’It will have to wait, doctor, I cannot currently vacate my post. I am not in need of an injection.’

  
The captain was watching their exchange with a worried look. Spock glanced over to him before turning back towards the computer screen.

Dr McCoy huffed.

  
’In a pig’s eye! You’ll turn around and let me inject you with this or I’ll have to make it a doctor’s order.’

  
Spock did not look up from the screen.

  
’I cannot leave my post, Doctor, and it would be highly illogical to force the first officer away from the bridge in the middle of a yellow alert, as he is supervising the implementation of some very complicated equations.’

  
He stretched his fingers again. Having them desensitised by the cold was very uncomfortable. He tried to will his circulation to work faster, but the vulcan anatomy had evolved on a desert planet, and there were limits even to its capabilities. The captain (still, Spock noted, with a furrowed brow,) now joined in.

  
’I am sure,’ he said carefully, ’that both the bridge and Scotty can spare you for a little while, if Dr McCoy needs you.’

  
’Need?’ huffed Dr McCoy. ’I don’t _need_ to give a temperature-stabilising injection, but I’m fairly sure a certain green-blooded touch-telepath does need me to.’

  
’I fail to understand,’ Spock said, expressionless but now considerably annoyed, ’this insistence on your part, doctor. I have clearly stated that I cannot, at present, abandon my post, and further that I have no need of an injection at this time.’

  
McCoy raised his eyebrows, and there was a dangerous gleam in his eye, but the Captain, ever alert, intervened.

  
’Mr Spock,’ he said with a small smile, ’The doctor, being human, is simply worried about you. That’s what we emotional creatures do when we care about someone.’

  
’You might as well try to explain it to a computer.’ muttered McCoy. The Captain gave him a look, and he fell silent. The Captain turned back to Spock.

  
’We all care for you, Mr Spock. Surely you can’t deny us our feelings.’

This was the final straw for Spock. He looked up from the screen, and said, with an almost heated undertone;

_’I care for you, Captain_ , but I hardly spend my time fussing over you!’

It was a testament to the great bridge crew of the USS Enterprise that no-one actually dropped what they were holding and swung around to look at them. Uhura was already staring, and remained thus, one hand on her earpiece. Sulu’s teeth stopped chattering in sheer surprise.  The whole bridge was quiet. You heard only the tapping of keys and the rustling of clothes as the crew worked in silence, listening fervently.McCoy was speechless, torn between surprise and a sort of ecstatic triumph. In other circumstances Spock would have been fascinated to see the good doctor finally lose his tongue.

  
He could feel a dark green blush spread over his cheeks as he fought to keep his composure. He swallowed hard once, twice. The Captain, ever alert, turned to McCoy.

  
’Doctor,’ he said, loudly, ’Perhaps you two should hurry back to the sick bay to administer that shot. Mr Spock is, as he says, needed on the bridge.”

  
Dr McCoy nodded mutely. Spock stood up, rather too quickly and the two men stepped into the turbolift. Just before the doors closed Spock glanced at the Captain. He was watching them, wearing a thoughtful expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


	2. Sickbay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock tries to collect his thoughts in sickbay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, thank you for reading! ♥
> 
> This chapter's short and, I'm afraid, rather rushed. I haven't got much time at the moment.
> 
> I have probably made lots of ridiculous mistakes again, I'll be very grateful if you point them out!

The ride to sickbay was uncomfortable and silent. McCoy, glee and concern fighting furiously within him, kept glancing over at Spock. Mr. Spock, now a deathly pale green, refused to meet the eye of Dr McCoy and stared away into space. Or, to be precise, he fixed his gaze on several small imperfections in the bulkhead and on the floor. Space was, scientifically speaking, everywhere. In the end the good doctor, despite his surly manner a very perceptive man, did not press Spock. They stepped out of the lift and as they reached the sickbay McCoy disappeared into his office without a word. Spock sat down on the closest berth, much distracted.

It is not the case that humanity lacks logic, but rather that it is abundant in emotion. While Mr Spock and many of his paternal kinsmen often found human behaviour irrational or even chaotic, they also knew that humans were capable of perfectly logical reasoning, occasionally even brilliant. They considered it quite a waste. Emotion, it seemed, tended to cloud all better judgment that humanity possessed.

Spock had grown up knowing all this to be true, (or at least, satisfyingly, empirically proven). His mother, fiercely intelligent and impulsive, had been a symbol for human emotionalism to him; in his weak moments, when angry or upset, she represented everything that he resented about his own humanity; the erratic outbursts of emotion and the weakness of a mind not purely logical. He was greatly ashamed of these emotions, and angry with himself for feeling at all. And his anger and frustration were, of course, emotions too. Feelings are quite exhausting.

Spock tried to keep his breathing at an even pace. He calculated his breaths per minute, to 14 decimal points. It had quickened slightly. He furrowed his brow and tried to enter into a meditative trance. His hands were still shaking.

From the doorway to his office Doctor McCoy watched his favourite enemy and close friend. He was worried now, concern had won at the sight of Spock's trembling hands.

Meditation proved ineffective for Spock. There was no calm or order to be had in his mind at present, and the knowledge of that hurt him.. He tried distraction instead, but no musings on intra-planetary comparative anatomy or antimatter theories worked. Spock’s mind kept returning to the incident with a precision usually reserved for difficult calculations or scientific conundrums. His breathing quickened, despite his efforts. 21.4 breaths/min, far above an acceptable frequency. He focused on keeping it calm and steady, trying to give himself a purpose. It didn’t work. His (excellent) mind kept returning to what had happened, to the captain and to the outburst on the bridge. The Captain, who valued his advice so highly. Who relied on his rational, analytical mind. Who depended upon his first officer. And indeed the Crew, who trusted him together with the Captain, to get them out of any trouble they found themselves in. He felt nauseous.

Spock would rather have beamed himself into the sun than admitted how he — that is, how highly he regarded Jim Kirk. He found no difficulty in commending the excellent leadership of Captain Kirk, after all it was only logical that such fortitude be acknowledged. It was his regard for Jim Kirk that troubled him, not least because, as he had discovered, of just how profound his respect/appreciation truly was. Spock couldn’t begin to put it into words, he just knew that somehow James Tiberius Kirk and his well-being was more important that Star-Fleet, than himself, possibly even more important than Science! (1)

Doctor McCoy entered, brandishing a hypo. He always looked rather menacing with one of the long thin metal cylinders in in his hand. At present the doctor’s eyebrows were contracted rather alarmingly too. To Spock, in his troubled state, he looked very angry. Surely a lecture was imminent. It would be long, as all of the good doctors lectures were. This one entitled perhaps; The Ethics of Command relationships or; What the Captain needn’t know and would be a good 30 pages long in PADD form.

With the remnants of his vulcan self-control he braced himself.

But it never came.  
’You’ll need to be still awhile after this’ was all Doctor McCoy said, as he placed a firm hand on his shoulder and jabbed him no more violently than usual in the arm with the hypo-spray. Spock shuddered as warmth started to spread through him, and he shut his eyes momentarily.

The doctor’s hand remained on his shoulder.  
’Spock,’ he said, gently.  
’What happened on the bridge, it- Dammit, I’m sorry, Spock. And I’m sure Jim is too. I suppose we forget, sometimes, that you aren’t made of cogs and copper-plates.’  
Spock kept quiet. There was an uncomfortable pause. McCoy tried a different approach.  
’No one on the crew will care, Spock. Hell, by this time next week they won’t remember it ever happened!’  
Spock opened his eyes slowly, to gaze up at McCoy.  
’The _crew_ might very well have forgotten it by then.’ he answered, quietly. Doctor McCoy looked at him for a moment, before realisation dawned upon him.

’Oh, this is about Jim, isn’t it? I should’ve- Goddammit, don’t you know how much Jim-’ He stopped himself, and cleared his throat  
’Jim will _not_ ,’ he continued, putting emphasis on the word, ’mind. I'll have a word with him, too. Dammit, he l- It’ll be fine.’ That was about as much of the milk of human kindness could be milked out of the doctor in one day. He cleared his throat again, embarrassed, and did not go on. He patted Spock’s shoulder, gruffly.

Spock thought of a thousand things to say, evasions and contradictions, reassuring half-truths or icy remarks.  
But all he said, not looking at McCoy, was;

”Thank you, Leonard.”

The all-clear sounded through the loudspeakers. They were off yellow alert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Two words word for you: Horta.
> 
> Next chapter deals with the Kirk in all his glory, so buckle up old bean!


	3. Paperwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo, welcome to the third chapter! Thanks for reading!
> 
> I know there’s more than thousands of stars, but this isn’t written from Spock’s pov, so scientific accuracy be damned! (Sorry, commander.) 
> 
> Also Kirk is perhaps a bit more distrait than he should be, but write what you know and all that. I think it’s works in the context, he’s been on duty for 20+ hrs, and as there’s no emergency ’part from Spock currently on I can see him letting his mind wander a bit.
> 
> If you spot any mistakes, please let me know!

It is not the case that humanity lacks logic, but rather that it is abundant in emotion.

  
Captain James Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise paced tensely back and forth past the large viewscreen on the bridge, very much a victim to emotional conflict. Outside space stretched out around him, impossibly vast and beautiful and lit by the glow of a thousand stars. Far to starbord the Gigantic ion storm of Kelper-C raged, a bright cloud pulsating back and forth. A white streak divided the void into two, the Yhi supercluster, and above it a single, bright-red star stood out from it’s pale neighbours.

Usually, he liked nothing better than this sight. It spoke of adventure, every star a new world to explore and every bright patch and strange void something unknown, unchartered. Space, for him, came with a rush of excitement. The adrenaline would start pumping in his veins, his fingers would itch to explore, to discover every last piece of the spectacular sight before him. McCoy, very ungraciously, referred to it as Kirk’s ’space erection’. Captain Kirk always rewarded this expression with furrowed brows and a glare, but there might be some truth in it. Space was beautiful.

Occasionally he would turn to Spock and say this, and Spock would answer something noncommital and thoroughly dispassionate. But when Kirk turned to look at him he would see Spock’s eyes lit up by stardust, the corner of his mouth raised almost imperceptibly into a minute smile. Beautiful, Kirk would think to himself again, but not about the stars. The slight curve of a dark eyebrow, the…

  
_Focus_ , Captain Kirk told himself, sternly.

  
_Spock_ , he thought. _Spock, spock, spock, spock._

  
_Spock?_

  
_Oh, yes!_ Spock was the reason Kirk was worried, very worried indeed. And that’s why he was pacing up and down, not even glancing at his beloved stars.

  
The yellow alert had been over for hours now. Kirk had inspected the damages, spoken to Starfleet Command, and filled out a dozen reports, the last of which he was waiting to get delivered by a yeoman. But there had been no sign of Spock. Kirk had put a call through to sick-bay, where Bones told him Spock had left. When he never turned up on the bridge he’d called the labs, and Spock’s quarters, but had received no reply. He had Lt. Uhura get him the various environmental readings from Spock’s cabin, just to make sure Spock was really in there.

  
Kirk figured he had a pretty shrewd guess as to what was eating him. He knew that Spock must be hurting; caught yet again in a senseless tug-o-war between human and vulcan. _Two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder_ , as an Earth scholar once put it.

Kirk felt, as always, powerless to do anything for Spock. Even though, he thought fondly, their friendship had become very close over their years together, there was still very much that Spock did not share.

Which was, of course, all-right. Kirk would simply try to understand as best he could.

Spock seemed to had no-one who really did understand him. Kirk always had McCoy to turn to when the going was rough; many were the times when the wisdom and brandy of the good doctor had rescued him. He had managed to return the favour a handful of times over the years. Spock, however, would let no-one in that far. Not even Kirk. Since Spock never talked about his problems he often didn’t know about them until they became too much for Spock to bear. There was nothing for Kirk to say that could force Spock’s walls down, nothing that would force them that Kirk could say. Spock mind was his own, and in respect of that must Kirk stand by and watch it slowly crumble. He could only wait.

  
Captain James T. Kirk, man of action, was climbing the walls.

  
He stopped pacing and frowned towards the empty science station, restlessly drumming with a stylus against one of the empty chairs, lost in thought. Lt. Uhura sat bent over her station, typing code quickly and accurately into the computer, trying to get the space wi-fi back up. She looked up as the nib of the stylus broke off with a loud crack. She raised an eyebrow, and Kirk swiftly crossed his arms to hide it and looked back to the viewing screen, where the ion storm still raged in the distance and where the solitary red star shone brighter and bigger than before.

  
Uhura turned back to her station as Ensign Larsson ducked awkwardly through the doorway of the turbo-lift to enter the bridge. She was carrying a hefty stack of PADDs and making her way directly towards the Captain. Kirk sighed inwardly as he took them, and steeled himself for what looked like another hour of paperwork. The heap looked even larger in his arms; Ensign Larsson was well over two meters tall.

  
It was a popular joke in the ’fleet, so popular that it was quickly becoming a cliché, that in a time where paper as such had been more or less abolished Starfleet managed to give them more paperwork than ever before. Usually Engineering and the Medical staff took the brunt of Starfleet’s penchant for reports. It was Scotty and McCoy’s favourite topic over drinks, indeed often their reason for drinking in the first place. After inter-stellar battles however, and after alien attacks and other extraordinary circumstances, their load was very much shared by the other senior officers. Kirk shuffled through the stack of PADDs in his lap, as as Ensign Larsson turned back towards the lift. Damage reports, extraordinary requisitions from engineering and a good four PADDs full of the untidy scrawl of Doctor McCoy, which not even the decoding programs had managed to transcribe.

  
He sighed. The Ensign shuffled back into the turbo-lift, crouching.

* * *

  
An hour later Kirk threw the last pad on the floor with a thud. The stars still shone bright ahead, the galaxies still hung where they had been an hour ago, the glow red star seemed to be growing larger, and there was still no word from Spock. He turned to Uhura.

  
’Communications still aren’t back up, Captain.’ she said, before he could ask. She was the model of professionalism, but Kirk thought he detected a hint of annoyance in her voice. Possibly because this was the fourth or fifth time he asked her that in as many minutes. He gave her a short nod and turned to look out the viewing screen again.

  
Uhura enter the last lines of code in her brave attempt to bypass the deep-fried main circuits. As the computer did the calculations she glanced over at the captain. His brow was furrowed, his jaw set, he drummed restlessly against the arm of the captain’s chair. She saw dark circles under his eyes. The faint red glow from the viewing screen turned him a sickly pink, and lit up every line on his face, making him look much older than he was. Old and defeated. She shuddered slightly at the sight.

  
And then, as the lift doors opened again and he turned to see who it was, to see youth light up his face again, to see the worry wiped from his features! She could see the captain barely stopping himself from jumping to his feet and rushing over, glancing over to her. She smiled, and the captain almost did too, as he beckoned a very stiff Mr. Spock to stand next to him. As he walked over to him Spock looked over at Uhura, and gave her a small nod. She gave him a small, kind smile, turned back to the computer and pretended she wasn’t listening.

  
Kirk, was doing his best not to give Mr. Spock a large, relived grin. It didn't feel appropriate, somehow.

  
’How are you, Spock?’

  
’I am… better now, captain.’ Spock answered, not looking directly at the captain. He was fidgeting with his hands, Kirk noted; almost nervously. He tried, and failed, to catch his gaze.

  
They were both silent for a while, then Spock started to speak.

  
”Captain, I-”

  
There was a loud thud, and a cry of ’Helvete!’ from the door to the turbo lift.

  
Kirk and Spock turned around to see Larsson in the doorway, rubbing her forehead. Kirk chuckled.

  
’Language, Ensign!’ he said, not unkindly.

  
’Sorry, sir, I hit my head on the döörframe!’ She looked mortified and slightly dazed, and Kirk smiled at her.

  
’All-right, Ensign, just keep it in mind for future.’

  
’I will, sir! Thank you, sir!’

 

Kirk picked up the PADDs and handed them to her. As the the turbolift doors closed around the now carefully crouching Ensign Larsson, Liutenant Uhura gave Kirk a questioning look.

  
He shrugged at her.

  
’I want the crew to follow Starfleet regulations.’ he said, and she gave a small derisive snort.

  
’I’m pretty sure Doctor McCoy has been summarily ignoring the obscene language-rules since the moment he beamed on-board, sir.’

  
Kirk laughed, for what seemed the first time in days.

  
’I suspect you’re right. Don't you think so, Mr, Spock?’

  
Spock, however, seemed hardly amused, even by his standards. _He's tense_ , Kirk thought, and _worried._

  
Turning towards Spock again, and lowering his voice, Kirk said,

  
’I’m sorry, Mr Spock.You were about to tell me something?’

  
Spock hesitated, and Kirk put a hand on his arm to reassure him.

  
’Please, go ahead.’ He looked at Spock, and smiled.

  
Spock met his gaze, and swallowed. Uhura held her breath.

  
’Jim, I-’

  
There was a bright red flash of light, a deafening crash, and the Enterprise shook violently.

_The universe is so very cruel_ , Uhura thought to herself as Kirk clambered back into his chair, swearing loudly, and Spock hurried over to the Science station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll get to the end soon, I promise! Two chapters left, tops. Thanks!


	4. Caring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is emphatically NOT beta'd, but I have waited long enough to post this, so I'll just edit as I go along. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my fic, I love you for it! Any thoughts on it whatsoever, good or constructively bad, are welcome! Or if you're just lonely, go ahead and comment :)
> 
> I am writing a salacious epilogue to this, but if you're not of a very sexual nature you can regard this fic as done.

”Mr. Sulu, fire the photon torpedoes!”

Sulu nodded, his hand already on the button. There was a flash of light and the hostile craft shook with the impact, the explosion silent but devastating. The large electrical tentacles protruding from the enemy craft shuddered violently, but their hold on the Enterprise remained firm.

Kirk swore under his breath.

The shields strained under the force of the alien ship as Sulu sent a last torpedo into the very center of the hostile craft. The bright light of the explosion spread through the void. The ship stopped shaking, and the bridge went eerily quiet.

Suddenly a loud beeping sounded from the communications terminal. Uhura listen carefully, and then made a small, triumphant exclamation.

”They’re sending a message of surrender!”

A yeoman gave a small cheer from a corner. Sulu smiled brightly and gave Chekov a vigorous pad on the back. Uhura smiled as she sent a response.

Kirk gave a long sigh of relief. His muscles ached, and he felt sluggish and slow-witted. The sleep-deprivation was making itself known, now that he could afford it too. He walked up to Uhura.

”Tell them to release the Enterprise from the tentacles as quickly as possible to show us their good faith. And,’ he added, in a lower voice, ’to stop Scotty from singlehandedly breaking the ceasefire and blasting them halfway to Vega.”

Chekov, from behind the navigation panels, gave off something too dignified to be a snort, but too loud to be a giggle.

  
As Captain Kirk turned back to gaze over the bridge. Spock fell in next to him. Kirk gave him a tired smile, Spock raised an understanding eyebrow and together they looked out at their vanquished foe, the alien craft with it’s giant, bright blue tentacles still pulsating around the Enterprise. Her hull gave of an alarming, green glow where they touched her.

  
Scotty, it seemed, was already outside, inspecting the damage.

Uhura turned off the intercom as his report on the hull degenerated into a very distasteful demonstration of the Scottish-English vernacular. The technical data, streamed to the nearest pad, was enough for Kirk to consider, and so he did. Putting aside Scotty’s personal feelings in the matter, the external damages seemed manageable. Kirk motioned Spock, still next to him, to lean in and read from his pad. He watched dark eyes skip rapidly over the paragraphs, memorising them to the last comma. If Uhura saw a pad with the same text behind Spock's back, she didn’t comment.

’It seems, Captain, that the ship is in better condition than we anticipated.’

Spock had leant slightly over him to read the last sentence, and his voice sounded right next to Kirks ear. Captain Kirk decidedly did not shudder. It must have been the ship shuddering as the enemy craft moved.

  
’Oh?’ he said.

  
’According to my calculations, we should be ready to move from here in approximately— ’

  
Right then the ship did actually shake, and a loud creaking echoed through the interior. The crew on the bridge looked up towards the viewing screen, and were greeted with a wonderful sight.

  
Outside, the great, glowing tentacles were beginning to retreat, groaning(1) as they uncoiled themselves from the ship. They twisted and turned into intricate patterns, curling around themselves and leaving a trail of light agains the starry void.

’They’re beautiful,’ whispered Uhura, raptly.

  
Kirk, for his part, breathed a sigh of relief where he stood at the top of the stairs. He put a hand on the railing.

  
The tentacle closest to them seemed to be having some difficulties. It moved with a jerky motion, trying and failing to unwrap itself. The ship shuddered slightly as the tentacle made another attempt to uncoil. It’s massive, glowing body strained in vain towards the mothership, before going slack once more, collapsing back onto the Enterprise. A small piece of what Kirk recognised as one of their own external inertial dampeners soared gently past the viewing screen. He could hear Scotty swearing in his head.

  
Poor man.

  
The creaking had stopped as the tentacle went still. The bridge was almost quiet once more. The only sounds came from the communications panel, where Uhura was speaking rapidly in an alien tongue, simultaneously translating on the computer next to her, her fingers racing over buttons and switches. Kirk squinted at the tentacle, trying to see what was wrong. He leaned forward -

  
* * *

  
’Goddammit Jim.’

  
Supporting himself on Spock’s arm, Kirk lowered himself gingerly onto the side of the bed. His leg, though now on the mend, stuck out at an odd angle.

  
Dr. McCoy had just bustled in through the door to the Captains quarters, where Kirk had been released to after a quick fix-up. McCoy had a bandage around his head, a bruise in full bloom on one cheek, and wore a scowl that’d send a Gorn running.

  
’You know this is the absolute, damned, ever-loving limit. If it had been an attack, or a kidnapping —’

  
Spock’s tensed slightly. The thought upset him in what was surely a logical way.

  
’…but this,’ continued the doctor, without noticing, ’takes the ever-loving ’fleet-forsaken prize.’

  
Captain Kirk, one of the most well-decorated officers in the fleet, commander of The USS Enterprise, did not dare to meet the doctors eye.

  
Spock, stood by the side of his bed, knew better than throwing himself into the doctor’s line of fire.

  
McCoy looked at Jim, and swore again.

  
’Captain of a starship, my foot! What do I hear, after they’ve taken your sorry self back to sick bay, in pieces, Jim? That you haven’t slept since the last alpha shift! Goddammit man, do I need to baby-sit you?’

  
Kirk studied the floor very closely.

  
McCoy sighed and seemed to deflate slightly. Suddenly he looked the tired, much tried middle-aged man he was.

’Jim, if this happens again I jump ship the next base we reach. Look at me!’

  
Kirk finally did. Bright blue eyes pierced his.

  
’I will not see you run yourself into the ground because you’re too proud ask for help. Do you understand me?’

  
Kirk nodded.

  
McCoy managed the ghost of a smile.

  
’You know,’ he said, tiredly, ’part of me is even impressed. You must’ve gone up and down that staircase a hundred times since you were made captain.’

  
’I estimate, doctor,’ interjected Spock from where he stood, next to the captain’s bed, ’that number to be rather in the thousands. Though,’ he added, in the interests of accuracy, ’it is worth noting that the floors of the bridge have been waxed recently, which lowers their friction against the sole of Star-fleets regulation boots with approximately-”

  
Kirk shifted uncomfortably on the bed, and winced as a jolt of pain shot though his leg. Spock quieted instantly, turning back towards Kirk, the minutest crease of his brow betraying considerable concern.

  
Dr McCoy simply looked unimpressed.

’M’Benga says you’ll make a full recovery, as long as you take it easy. Which,’ he added, his eyebrows raised menacingly, ’you will do, if I have to strap you to your bed myself.’

  
Kirk knew better than to argue, and the doctor stalked off. 

  
Once Doctor McCoy has left, there was a long silence. Kirk was trying to ease himself further back on the bed without moving his injured leg. Spock hovered politely over one of the shelves in Kirk’s quarters, this one filled with rare, physical editions of old books.

  
Kirk managed to get himself sitting back agains the headboard, his uninjured leg sitting on the bed and the other dangling from it. He tried to lift it, and groaned with pain.

  
Spock, in an instant, was at his side. Slowly and dextrously, despite some halfhearted protests from Kirk, he picked up the captain’s leg, lifting it carefully, stopping every time he saw Kirk tense. He placed his leg on the (almost soft and nearly warm) Star Fleet regulation duvet, and he let his hand linger an extra second before straightening up, hands clasped behind his back.

  
He looked at Kirk.

  
Kirk looked at him.

  
Spock began to bid the captain good night, but Kirk was quicker.

He patted the bed, beside him.

  
’Won’t you sit down?’

  
Spock sat down, awkwardly, and clasped his hands carefully in his lap.

  
He turned to look at Kirk, who looked thoughtfully back at him.

  
’So,’ Kirk said after a pause. ’that was embarrassing.’

  
He thought he saw Spock relax, slightly.

  
’Indeed, I would imagine your recent adventures has not made your pride any favours.’

  
Kirk chuckled weakly.

  
’No, indeed.’ He paused for a moment looking at Spock, seemingly lost in thought.

  
’The crew’ll probably laugh me off the bridge when I show up.’ he said, suddenly.

  
’I really don’t think-’ answered Spock.

Kirk cut him off.

  
’That they’d dare? Ah, but that was before. After seeing… well, my accident… why, they wouldn’t be intimidated if I turned up wearing all my medals at once!’

  
Kirk had a glint in his eye when he looked up at him, and Spock was instantly wary. But if there was anything that came as instinctively, as naturally as breathing to him, it was praising Captain Kirk.

  
’Captain, it’s not a question about daring to oppose you! Yours is a leadership built on trust and respect. The crew accept your authority because they trust you, and their respect and admiration is freely given!’

  
’And would you agree with them?’

  
’I would consider it logical to place my trust in someone I know will honour it. And it would furthermore be completely illogical to lose my respect for you over a single slip-up, caused by fatigue.’

  
Kirk looked quietly triumphant, the same expression he wore whenever he beat Spock at chess.

  
’Then surely you must apply the same, logical standards to yourself?’ he said.

  
When Spock didn’t answer he continued, in a mild voice.

  
’I am right, aren’t I? That’s what has been worrying you? And that's what you've been wanting to talk to me about?’

  
Spock looked at the captain, and hesitated. He remembered the rare words of comfort the doctor had given him, and steeled himself.

  
’Not entirely correct, Captain.” He clasped his hands tighter in his lap before continuing.

  
’I wanted to apologise for my behaviour.’

  
Kirk began to protest, but Spock interrupted him.

  
’Please, Captain, let me finish. I was, indeed, disturbed by the fact that so many of my colleagues saw my unsavoury display of emotion—’ here Kirk looked like he wanted to protest again, but Spock continued quickly. ’—while that disturbed me, what bothered me most was that I showed such weakness in front of you.’  
’I knew this to be irrational, and yet I could not purge my mind of this… idea. It seems that— that your respect is of such an importance to me that the fear of loosing it clouded my judgement.’  
  
’You must know, Spock,’ Kirk quietly said, after a while, ’that I would never consider your emotions a weakness.’

  
’I do know that, Captain.’ Spock answered, because he did.

  
’My respect and admiration for you has not changed, Spock,’ continued Kirk, ’and it won’t.’

  
If a flush of green spread over Spock’s cheek at these words of esteem, neither of them acknowledged it. Kirk could barely see Spock’s face from where he sat on the edge of the bed, almost his back towards him and eyes cast down.

  
After a moment of loosing himself contemplating Spock's smooth and silken black hair, he went on:

  
’May I ask you something?’

  
’Yes, Captain?’

  
’Stop me if I go too far, or if you'd rather not discuss it, but earlier, you… On the bridge, what did you mean when you said that you care for me?’  
  
Spock swallowed once before turning to look at him. Kirk gave a small smile, and Spock’s chest felt inexplicably tight. He tried, and failed, to find an explanation.

  
’Captain I— I confess I don’t know what to say.’

  
’I guess what I am asking,’ Kirk answered, slowly, ’is what kind of caring you meant.’

  
’It is a kind of care not easily expressed by a Vulcan.’

  
’A deep kind?’

  
Kirk fought to keep his breathing steady, hope swelling in his chest.

  
’The very deepest.’  
Spock looked Kirk straight in the eyes as he answered, as if his gaze would say what words did not. He could not afford to be misunderstood.

  
The smile that spread over Kirks face, broad and brighter than the Tellar sun, told him that his Captain understood perfectly.

  
’Jim…’ he said, in barely a whisper.

  
Kirk’s heart skipped a beat. He leant forward...

  
As Doctor McCoy was entering the captain’s quarters, a hypo of something Nasty but Necessary in his hand, he stopped dead in the doorway.  
Kirk, smiling like a fool, was extending two fingers towards Spock. Spock slowly met the vulcan kissed offered with his own fingers. A small, barely noticeable smiled played over his lips, his cheeks were flushed green.

  
Doctor McCoy turned on the spot, and ran away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) As Spock would explain to him later, the groans actually came from the Enterprise itself, not from the tentacles, whose sounds couldn’t possibly be heard through the void outside. Kirk knew this, of course, but he didn’t mind listening to the deep rumble of Spock’s voice as he explained sound propagation. His voice, always calm and even but with the occasional tremor of excitement when he was unable to surpress his enthusiasm over some curious new discovery or unusual occurrence, it nearly made Kirk weak at the knees. He had actually started to drool once, when Mr. Spock explained to him the disadvantages of coal mining. Bones, often an unwilling witness to moments like this between the two of them, had called Kirk a ’very sick man indeed, and, by god Jim, if I had a cure I’d hypo you with it without a second thought’. Once or twice a very confused yeoman had come to Kirk, asking what McCoy meant by requisitioning ’a gallon of brain bleach.’


End file.
